Theodosia and the Serpents of Chaos-Theo 1 (5 page)

"Him? I don't know, dear. He was on the boat when we left Alexandria."

"Another one of your admirers, Henrietta?" Father teased.

"Nonsense!" Mum said, flapping her hand.

Must they carry on so?

The cab driver was not happy when he saw all Mum's trunks and crates. I kept a lookout for the little pickpocket, half convinced he'd try to make off with an entire trunk if given the opportunity. Finally, the driver (with Father's help) managed to get every piece of luggage tied on and tucked in. It was a bit of a squash, but we didn't have far to go.

I sat right next to Mother, pressed up close due to all the luggage, which I didn't mind. I had six long months to catch up on, after all. I let my mind focus on how wonderful it was to have her home again and actually
go
home for a bit. I was getting tired of dinners out of a tin. I wanted a proper bath and a cream tea, and steak and kidney pie for dinner with a scrumptious pudding afterward.

After six long months away, surely Mother felt the same.

For the moment, I was happy to snuggle up against her and let the two of them talk their boring political talk.

"So, how were things over there, Henrietta?" Father asked.

Mum settled more firmly into the cushions. "Well, the French have calmed down some. The Americans are like puppies bounding all over the place in their enthusiasm, not minding who or what they step on. And the place was absolutely crawling with Germans."

"Any sign of von Braggenschnott?"

"Well, yes, actually. He's risen to a surprising level of influence considering that he's up to his elbows in smuggling antiquities out of the country. But I can't complain; he came to my assistance in convincing the local officials to let me take my discoveries out of the country and bring them home to England."

"I don't know, Henrietta. I don't like having you anywhere near von Braggenschnott or men of his character."

Mother waved her hand in the air. "Nonsense. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Hm, yes, well. The Germans have been busy at home too. Their naval buildup has the entire Ministry uneasy. The Lord Chancellor offered them a treaty again, but Kaiser Wilhelm insists on concessions we refuse to make. Everyone's getting nervous. They're pretty sure he's up to something."

Thoroughly bored with this conversation, I looked out the window. With a sinking heart, I noticed the growler turn away from Chesterfield Place and head down Marlborough Street toward the museum. I gave Father a questioning look. He reached out and patted my arm. "Don't worry, Theodosia. It will only be for a bit. We've got to drop some of these crates off at the museum, and your mother wants to show us a few of her new discoveries."

A bit, my bum, I thought. I settled back against the cushions and resigned myself to spending yet another night in the museum. Which was probably just as well, since I was terribly worried about Isis. I had to find a way to reverse that spell.

Besides, it would only be for one more day. Come tomorrow, we'd have to go home. For one, it was only a few days before Christmas and even my distracted parents emerged from their scholarly pursuits long enough to celebrate Christmas. The second reason was my younger brother, Henry. He would be coming home from school tomorrow and he
hates
the museum. He is so easily bored, and becomes such a dreadful pest, that by mutual consent my parents avoid having him there for any length of time.

Of course, I should be in school as well. I went for one term and it was so horribly dull and boring. Unfortunately, I had the bad luck to get far better marks than the others, an unpardonable sin in their eyes. (If I'd any idea how unpopular that would make me, I would have flubbed the tests on purpose!) So when I came home for the holidays, I just never went back and, luckily, my parents never remembered to send me. Or, more accurately, I never reminded them. Once, when Father managed to remember on his own, I pointed out that my own studies of history, ancient languages, Greek, and hieroglyphics were far more rigorous than anything any school could come up with. He reluctantly agreed, and so we let the matter drop.

Father had the growler pull round the back to the loading dock. Dolge and Sweeney came out to meet us and hauled the crates and some of the trunks into the downstairs workroom and short-term storage area. Then Father instructed Dolge to hop in the growler and take the rest of Mum's things to our house.

"So," Mother announced after all the fuss of unloading and seeing Dolge off, "who wants to see some new artifacts?"

Father and I crowded around while Mum pulled a key out of her pocketbook and knelt down in front of the first trunk.

"Oh, Alistair! It was all there, exactly as you said it would be. Your research was simply brilliant," Mother said. As she fumbled with the lock, I was relieved to see she still had her gloves on. Father, too, I noticed, as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

I studied his face to see if there was any sign of bitterness. There didn't appear to be, but who could have blamed him if there was?

Long ago, when I was only two, Father, after years of painstaking research and study, discovered the likely whereabouts of the tomb of Thutmose III, a powerful pharaoh in Egypt's Middle Dynastic Period. He and Mother made the trip to the Valley of the Kings (leaving me with my British grandmother, who I'm quite sure dressed me up in lacy frills and forced me to sit still for hours on end). Their expedition was a huge success except for the fact that they were betrayed by a colleague, and a man named Victor Loretti claimed the official discovery.

Even worse, the British Museum, which Father was working for at the time, refused to back him and accepted the discovery as Lorretti's.

That's when Father quit that stuffy old museum and came to work for the Museum of Legends and Antiquities.

Anyway, for the last few years Father had been working on a theory about the location of Amenemhab's tomb. Amenemhab was Thutmose Ill's Minister of War, and some attributed the pharaoh's great military conquests to Amenemhab's brilliance.

After two years of coming up empty-handed, Mother had finally found the adjoining tomb of Amenemhab.

Father couldn't wait to see what she'd found. Neither could I, for that matter. I stepped closer to her and asked, "Was it scary, Mum, going into ancient sealed tombs like that? Were you the least bit frightened?"

Before she could answer, Bollingsworth wandered in and distracted her. "Hello, Mrs. Throckmorton. Welcome back."

"Thank you, Mr. Bollingsworth. It's good to be back."

Just like Father, Nigel rubbed his hands together. "Did you bring us lots of treasure?"

"Lots," Mum said, then threw open the trunk lid with a dramatic flourish.

A chaotic jumble of foul odors slammed into me like a fist: the coppery tang of blood, the smell of rot and decay, wood smoke, and sulfur. I gasped and my knees nearly buckled at the force of the black magic rolling into the room from the trunk.

Father gave me a sharp look. "What, Theodosia?"

"Th-they're just wonderful. That's all," I replied, trying to look as if all was normal. Could no one else feel this?

"But she hasn't even taken anything out of the trunk yet!"

"Oh, but I know they'll be smashing. Mum always finds the best things."

He narrowed his eyes at me, but was quickly diverted when Mum began unwrapping a large, flat package.

Nigel came over to stand next to me. "I say, Theo. Are you all right? You look a bit peaked. Do you need to go lie down or something?"

I shook my head and took small, shallow breaths as Mother lifted the final wrapping away. After the smell, I was half afraid it would be a severed mummy limb or some horrid thing. But it was a plaque carved with intricate symbols and a drawing of a large man wearing the crowns of Upper and Lower Egypt. He held another man by the hair, his raised arm holding a large knife. My stomach bobbed like a cork as I realized he was about to chop the man's head off. Under his feet were rows and rows of other figures who had met the same fate.

"I say," said Father, "this is rather bloodthirsty stuff."

"Oh, this isn't the half of it," said Mother. "This fellow makes Kaiser Wilhelm look like a nursemaid!"

She reached into her trunk and pulled out another flattish package and unwrapped it, revealing a long, curved knife with the small figure of Anubis on the handle.

Father whistled. "This is marvelous, Henrietta."

"Isn't it?" she beamed. "And there was so much more! All the walls were covered with detailed histories of every war Thutmose fought, his victories and his strategies. It will take years and years to decipher it all."

I doubted that. I bet if they let me have a go at it, we could have it done in months.

"It contained weapons of every sort imaginable," Mother continued. "Spears and daggers and long swords, quite a lot of them carved with Apep and Mantu."

Father frowned. "I've never seen the serpent of chaos and the god of war used together like that before."

"Me neither," said Mum.

I had a sudden vision of the Mantu hieroglyph I had seen last night. "I have," I muttered. Both Mum and Father looked at me as if they'd forgotten I was there.

"Where would you have seen such a thing, Theodosia?" Father asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. But of course I wasn't about to tell him it had been on the Bastet statue. "Er, can't remember where ... Sorry," I said.

By the expression on his face, it was clear he thought I was pulling his leg. "Anyway," Mother continued after an awkward moment. "Amenemhab's tomb also contained a small temple dedicated to the god of war, Mantu."

"Really?" Father exclaimed.

We spent the next few minutes happily examining stele after stele, spears, daggers, and all sorts of things. Then Fagenbush arrived and would have cast a pall over the whole proceeding except Mother got one of her
I am so brilliantly clever
looks. She pulled her handbag out from under her arm and held it in front of her until she had everyone's attention.

"Now, I want you to try and guess what I have in here," she announced, eyes sparkling.

"Oh, Henrietta!" Father said. "We can't possibly guess. Put us out of our misery."

Mum smiled, opened her handbag, and slowly drew out a flat package. She laid it on her still-gloved palm and began unwrapping the paper.

Luckily, everyone's eyes were focused on the artifact so they didn't see me shiver violently, as if I'd just caught a ghastly chill. The truth of it was, whatever was in that package was cursed with something so powerful and vile it made me feel as if my whole body were covered in stinging ants.

When Mother lifted off the last bit of paper, she held a large scarab carved out of precious stone in her hand. It had gold wings curving out of its side and they were inlaid with thousands and thousands of jewels. A large round carnelian, the size of a cherry, sat at the head, and a smaller green stone decorated the bottom of the beetle.

"The Heart of Egypt," she announced. "Straight from Amenemhab's tomb."

I
N ORDER TO RULE
, every pharaoh had an enormous heart amulet made for them when they were crowned pharaoh. It is known as the Heart of Egypt, because the health and well-being of the pharaoh and Egypt were one and the same. It was destined to be placed on the pharaoh's body when he died. Thutmose's Heart of Egypt hadn't been in his tomb, and its location had been a major puzzle for years.

"Yes," Mother said, nearly bursting her seams in self-satisfaction. "It was in Amenemhab's tomb the whole time. Not Thutmose's."

As Mum handed the scarab to Father, I glanced at Fagenbush. His face was positively aglow with pure greed and excitement. Now, most people when they glow look lovely. Not Fagenbush. He looked even more frightening than ever, as if his glow came from the fires of the underworld itself.

Mum took the Heart of Egypt back from Father and wrapped it up once more. She returned it to her handbag and gave it a good solid pat. "We'll stash this inside in a bit, shall we, Alistair?"

"Absolutely."

The adults went back to poring over Mum's haul and frankly, it was hideously boring watching all the adults
ooh
and
aah
over Mum's finds while I was told to not touch and keep my hands off. Besides, all those curses gave me a dull, throbbing headache and made me feel twitchy.

I glanced up at the clock and saw that it was nearly tea-time. With luck I could talk my parents into letting me pop over to a shop and pick up some food for a proper dinner.

The only hitch in that plan was that Fagenbush would get to see some of the new pieces before I did. He'd probably try to squirrel them away before I got back. Knowing him, he'd pinch the ones with the worst curses on them.

Then I had a brainstorm. "Oh, Mr. Bollingsworth?" I asked in my most casual voice, the one that always put Father on alert when he was paying attention.

"Yes, Theo?" Nigel looked up from a box of wax shabti figures he'd just opened.